


Spies on Ice: The Cold War

by nuclearchinchilla



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU in which Gay is OK even though it is the Cold War, M/M, cold war au, sort of kinda loosely inspired by The Man From U.N.C.L.E., spy AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nuclearchinchilla/pseuds/nuclearchinchilla
Summary: "To prepare you for a honeypot operation, you must now practice seducing sensitive information out of me. If you do succeed, I would consider that very impressive."
"Mr Nikiforov, should you be unable to recall, you took one look at this man and defected with him, ziplining right over the Berlin wall with your dick out. I don't think you're qualified to make that statement."
"He did not have his dick out!"





	1. Dossiers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highkickhr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highkickhr/gifts).



> I usually write one-shots because I have a problem with commitment, but I do want this to be multi-chapter and lengthier, I have slightly larger dreams for it. make-sterek-canon and highkickhr wanted this written when it was proposed on tumblr, so this is for you guys!
> 
> (there will be leoji way later on, so i'm only adding that tag later)
> 
> Also chapter 1 is just background info, you don't really need it to understand the rest of the fic but it helps. Otherwise, skip to chapter 2.

TOP SECRET- CIA   
Central Intelligence Agency

**Yuuri Katsuki**

Date of Birth: November 29, 1940   
Place of Birth: Hasetsu, Saga Prefecture, Kyushu   
Country of Origin: Japan

Agency position: Senior Field Agent, Espionage Faction

Languages spoken: Japanese, English, German

Psychological profile: Nothing of note

Other skills/knowledge: Accomplished figure skater and ballet dancer

\---

**Leo de la Iglesia**

Date of Birth: August 2, 1944   
Place of Birth: San Diego, California   
Country of Origin: United States of America   
Place of Residence: Ulaanbaantar, Mongolia

Agency position: Plans Officer, Directorate of Plans (Cover: Cuban Professor at the Mongolian State University of Education)

Languages spoken: English, Spanish, Mongolian, Mandarin

Psychological profile: Nothing of note

\---

**Guang Hong Ji**

Date of Birth: January 7, 1946   
Place of Birth: Unknown   
Country of Origin: China   
Place of Residence: Ulaanbaantar, Mongolia

Agency position: NIL, foreign individual of interest

Corresponding Plans Officer: Leo de la Iglesia

Occupation: Courtesan

Other notes: This individual has Soviet and Soviet-aligned clients in possession of valuable information

**\----------------------**

TOP SECRET- KGB   
Committee for State Security

**Viktor Nikiforov**

Date of Birth: December 25, 1936   
Place of Birth: Dzhamku, Solnechny District, Khaborovsk Khrai, Russian SFSR   
Country of Origin: Soviet Union

Agency position: Supervisor (temporary), Chief Special Agent

Languages spoken: Russian, German, English

Psychological profile: Nothing of note

Other skills/knowledge: Accomplished figure skater, expert in art and antiquities

\---

**Yuri Plisetsky**

Date of Birth: March 1, 1948   
Place of Birth: Sverdlovsk, Sverdlovsk Oblast, Russian SFSR   
Country of Origin: Soviet Union

Agency position: Agent-in-training

Languages spoken: Russian, German, English

Psychological profile: B3 Volatile Personality Disorder

Other skills/knowledge: Accomplished gymnast


	2. kiss kiss fall in(to mutually assured destruction)

 (Berlin, Checkpoint Charlie, 1963)

[YOU ARE NOW LEAVING THE ALLIED SECTOR]

" _6 feet tall_ ," Yuuri thought, " _Caucasian, obviously a powerlifter, or least someone ridiculously fit along those lines. Brilliant blue eyes. Usual playboy demeanour. Too-sharp suit, and wears it too well_."

They really have to stop doing this.

The Japanese man bit back a sigh as he caught a peek of the guards slipping a bug into the man's briefcase successfully.

Processing said man in front of him took 15 minutes, suspicious glances all the way. 

Processing him took 5. There were no bugs. He made all too sure of it, not that he even had to.

_Diminutive in comparison. Lithe. Asian. An everyman-like, almost nerdy demeanour. Simple clothes, for a simple man._

_Yuuri Katsuki._

They, the CIA, really should have sent him instead. It only made sense. Perhaps they just didn't have the confidence in him, but he couldn't blame them entirely, not after his recent string of blunders. 

Oh well. You aren't really a spy, unless you've gone a little bit rogue at least once, right? 

Or at least, that was certainly something Viktor Nikiforov would say.

Well, more accurately, it was something that other people said Viktor would say. Yuuri had never spoken to him before, nor was any other CIA agent sure of having done so. The man was too good a spy. 

For too long, their operations around the globe were foiled by what the CIA assumed to be a dedicated team of Soviet agents. The covers of agents were blown, assassinations went awry, intel became much harder to gather and relay. However, information from various sources, finally started pointing towards the handiwork of a single legendary man. 

But it was Guang Hong Ji, an important Mongolian contact, who confirmed his name and gave a face. He relayed this information to the local Plans Officer and Yuuri's good friend, Leo. 

And now, Yuuri, in a moment of dread that the CIA would screw it up, with the simultaneous desperation to rehabilitate his reputation, was now "a little bit rogue". 

In that he was entering East Berlin to track down Viktor Nikiforov. Unofficially. Halfway across the globe from where he supposedly, officially is. To capture a man once three steps away from acquiring the US nuclear launch codes.

He was just sure everything would go wonderfully. 

\---

The man in front hails a taxi (of course he does). Yuuri has contacts, and a car waiting where it needs to be, if he needs it. But he walks to where he needs to be first. Barely anyone around has a car anyway.

\---

"I don't get why I'm here trying to be East German! I'm not even going to be stationed here!," Yuri exploded in Russian, "take me to America!"

"If I took you to America, my kitten, you'd be dead five seconds in," Viktor responded airily, "Right here, if you blow your cover, as you just did, no one bats an eyelid. Your time here will teach you to blend into a foreign environment quickly, and gather data from it. Now zip up and keep your eyes open."

Yuri grumbled, but seemed to settle down. They started to walk, past crumbling buldings and silent, brooding faces. 

"Observe the people and space around you. No- don't glare. And don't be distracted by the stray cats."

Yuri shot him a look and Viktor just chuckled slightly in response. 

\---

Viktor sends Yuri home early, because he catches wind that there's an agent coming his way, and he's honestly a little impressed. 

No matter. He doesn't even get to have his fun. The man gets caught quite a way before reaching Viktor's apartment.

_6 feet tall. Caucasian. Built like a powerhouse. Saville Row suit, wears it like he's born in it._

_Really?_

_\---_

He's unintentionally cleared his schedule. Now he has the rest of the evening to himself. _Might as well indulge_ , he thinks to himself. 

And so he goes off to have a nice bowl of warm borshch at the only place in East Berlin that can make it right. It's near the college town, which is just a short walk from his apartment anyway. It's also a little pricy, but worth it. 

The streets are as depressing as they've always been, and he gets a little lost in thought on his way back. His mind drifts to Yuri.

The boy still had a long way to go, but at least he took Viktor's authority seriously. No one else took his supervising duties seriously. It even said so on his file, "Supervisor (temporary)". Most special agents were retired from the field at his age, to desk jobs and supervising (aka coaching), but the agency had yet to squeeze all it could out of him- he was too good a field soldier to lose to anything but sudden violent death in the field, presumably. 

And as bad as it reflected on him as a supervisor, he really was here in East Berlin not out of some passionate hunger to coach the new generation, but because being Chief Special Agent just didn't sit well with him anymore. Not that he even knew why. It just felt like something was missing, and he ran here to find it, but it was still nowhere to be found in the stone pavements and the scowl of his protege. Something was just missing. Wildness, maybe. Variety. A spark. 

None of this was even because of any shortcoming on Yuri's part, and he actually felt kinda sorry for the boy. Sure, he's brilliant as a spy, a legend at it, but he's a little lost about supervising, and about life in general right now. 

A few of the college students are heading the same way, towards the cluster of identical apartments blocks in the horizon, their harried faces illuminated by the dim street lamps and pale moonlight. Most look German, but there was some Russians, a few other Eastern Europeans and an Asian too.

Viktor was relatively caught in his thoughts, but it was pure force of habit to observe. 

He walks past the slower ones, but in a few moments, he feels a bump from behind, the person brushing past.

It's the smaller Asian man, bespectacled, a lanyard dangling from his neck, marking him as a Korean exchange student. 

The man's head shoots up from his books upon bumping into Viktor.

"S-sorry," he stammers out, his German laced with a North Korean bent. He buries his face in his books again, and awkwardly departs. 

Viktor just smiles, but the smile is slightly laced with pity. That man would look so much better without glasses and in something that wasn't baggy, shabby clothes. Oh well. 

The man is so unassuming that Viktor's already in the apartment lobby by the time it _clicks_.

His apartment keys are missing. 

He's laughing as he opens the door of the stairs. The people around cast strange looks at him but he doesn't care. 

_Finally bested._


	3. Love is a stranger tied up in your house after dinner

Viktor doesn't hurry. His apartment isn't particularly large, but there's a hallway and now he appreciates it because it makes everything all the more ominous. 

He does have to admit, the boy did a pretty thorough job of cleaning out the place. Disabled the surveillance and took all the valuable documents he did. Just one last room down the hallway to check.

It's all quiet, too quiet. It does make him worry, for ever so brief a moment, if the other man had already made his escape. 

_Shit._

He hears the barely audible swear from the last room, and chuckles. Ah, the floorboard. 

Under normal circumstances, he would expect better of the man. Creaky floorboard looking ever so slightly out of place, was nowhere near the hardest trap to spot in the house. But of course, the man had to have heard Viktor entering, and be hasty as hell right now. 

In fact, if the man hadn't stepped on it, he was just one small bed and window away from freedom. _So close, my little one_ , Viktor thought, _so close_.

He put on his gas mask and opened the door. He was actually happy to see that the other man had moved from where he had stepped on the trap. It was a smart move, because most of the traps/mines activated by stepping on them, simply and immediately go off even if you waited on them. Viktor himself was tired of seeing people wait dumbly on the landmine they stepped on, getting blown to smithereens. It was better to take your chances with escape. 

The intruder had managed to open the window to let some of the gas out, though he had passed out before managing a brave escape. Not that it really mattered since the gas was just incapacitating, but it meant that Viktor had to hurry a bit in tying him up. 

\---

When he came to, the man seemed shocked, and then plain resigned. 

"You came close," Viktor offered in a comforting tone, "you identified and avoided all the other traps."

"11," Yuuri responded, although in the same flat tone as his weary face suggested. 

"Yes. And there's more than I can say for anyone else. Actually, none have even made it into my home."

"Thanks. But it's not like any of that matters now."

Viktor just observed the man in silence, his own expression unclear. 

Then he went on his knees, leaning close to Yuuri's face. Viktor slowly removed Yuuri's glasses while brushing some fringe up, all while he was an inch away from bumping the smaller man's nose.

Said man's eyes seemed at first glance to be a demure, dull dark brown. But there was a hidden sharpness in those almost-obsidian eyes that screamed of weaponized normalcy, of the best kind of stealth. 

Right now though, they were slightly widened in perplexity. 

"I'm sorry sir, but...I'm not exactly sure w-what going on here...."

Aww. The stammering broken German, with a heavier North Korean accent than before on the streets, as some proof of nerves.

The boy was good.

_I'm bored,_ Viktor told himself.

_Messing with people is fun,_ he told himself.

It was the only way to rationalize what he was about to do.

_It's not because his lips look smooth and pink and kissable._

He leaned close to the other man's ear and whispered, "What if I said, I want to kiss you? Would you let me?"

He was expecting some sort of lashing out, at least some kind of sharp glance, because male spies were always that manly, strongman type, no matter how much they were trained to hide it. Not because manly and strongman was a requirement, but simply because the profession attracted a specific kind of manly man with something to prove.

But instead, the younger man just flushed and stammered, "W-well, uh, isn't that il-illegal? I-I don't know... But I mean, if you'd let me go, then ok!" 

This guy was good. He was so good, Viktor even felt a stab of "i'm making the guest uncomfortable" kind of guilt.

No. He's not a guest.

"I'm not kissing you," Viktor reassured. He had to fight the urge to add, "I also apologize". The other man's shoulders slumped. He looked almost vulnerable. 

And his still-soft face still looked as cute as ever. 

He went out into his living room, made coffee and came back. Coffee made everything better. It also made thinking traitorous thoughts slightly better. 

Coffee made everything worse.

Upon returning, Viktor placed a cup of the coffee at the other man's feet. Then he leaned against the peeling wall facing said mystery spy. 

He took a sip from his cup. It tasted terrible. Most things in East Berlin tasted terrible.

For all his cuteness and faked stammering, the man was still scanning for possibilities of escape. In fact, he seemed to have come to the realization that faking a frightened North Korean was longer viable or even rational. Even so, he didn't look like he had given up on escape, and was considering it with simple calm. In fact, neither he did look upon Viktor with any kind of hatred.    
  
It was really flattering to see someone consider that Viktor was just doing his job. Whether it was completely truthful, was another matter entirely.

But really, the man was very interesting. It was rare for Viktor to see someone with such inner peace and resilience, without the explosive feistiness or playboy vanity that usually came with projected strength.

Viktor took another sip.

Well. It was now or never. 

"Either you can continue pretending to be a North Korean college student, and I kill you right here and now because I'm not buying it. Or, you actually tell me who you work for and I can consider whether I'd like to work for them. If it sounds like good to me, then you get to keep your life, but you have to also get me out of here to there."

"Why?"

"Because you've got promise unlike any other agent I've ever known. And even though I've only known you today, I'd bet all my vodka back home that you're not the type to switch over to this side."

_Also because you're kinda good-looking. But come on, that's secondary to all of this. Right._


	4. Author's note: This is a Cold War AU in which Gay is somehow OK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is just an author's note about historical (in)accuracies in the dossiers and future chapters. It is not a fic chapter. Skip this and you'd be just fine still.

Before anyone brings it up, I am aware that both 1960s USA and the Soviet Union were the opposite of LGBT-friendly. But let me tell you, trying to be faithful to that aspect of history, is a headache for this fic.

Firstly, Viktor's dossier will read "deviant sexual tendencies" under his psych profile, because that's how the Soviet Union thought of homosexuality. But yes, i can easily argue that the KGB has no choice but to ignore that part, because he's too high value as a spy.

However, for Yuuri and Leo, there are problems. At least at the start of the story, they are not as high-value as Viktor. Therefore, they run a realer risk of getting kicked out of the CIA, if they are not discreet about their sexual orientation and activities. Except that Yuuri is not a romantically discreet person. And Leo strikes me as a ray of sunshine who stands up for what he believes in and who he is.

And finally, you know the last part in Chapter 3 where Viktor says he might join Yuuri and whoever he works for? And we know Yuuri works for the CIA? Well, being historically accurate in this aspect, means that Viktor is wasting his breath even discussing the idea. The CIA most definitely will go "wtf we cant make you one of us. We can only torture and kill you. We can barely tolerate gay spies who are discreet about it, and you're like high-key thirsty. Also, more importantly, our most debilitating anxiety is gay spies getting seduced by hot men into defecting or giving info. Even though straight spies getting seduced by women happen all the time, but that's besides the point. The point is that the whole "i defected at least partially bc he's hot" thing sounds like something you just did, so how can we trust you?"

As in, the KGB might "tolerate" his homosexuality for it is a strike one of sorts. But to the CIA, Viktor is both defector (causing suspicions of double agents and whether he can be loyal) as well as homosexual. And they think his homosexuality and defection ties together in a way that confirms their worse fears. So I don't see how they would accept viktor as opposed to just trying to torture soviet info out of him and then kill him. He'd have too many "strikes" against him.

So yes, the whole homophobia aspect is going out the window. I'm sorry about it


	5. The Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is heavily influenced by The Man From U.N.C.L.E. yes
> 
> historical fun fact: there was only one kind of car you were supposed to have in East Berlin, which is the Trabant. It was produced from 1957 to 1990.
> 
> also this is not the ending, it's only the start of our adventure OwO
> 
> (edit: remind me not to write chapters at midnight. I messed up who was driving the car 3/4s of the way through ;_; It's fixed now)

"You don't have to know my name but I work for the CIA."

"You might as well just tell me your name, you know," Viktor pouted.

"Fine. It's Yuuri Katsuki."

"Hi, Yuuri!" Viktor perked up, "I'm sure you know I'm Viktor."

"Well yes," coughed Yuuri. A slight blush came to his cheeks. He seemed genuinely embarrassed, and looked slightly away.

Aww. A fan.

"Anyway, I accept the job offer, Yuuri," Viktor replied, as if without a second thought.

"What?"

"Well I mean, we don't really have time here. When I caught wind of what you did, I kinda told a certain acquaintance to break into this apartment if I don't tell her everything's fine in the 15 minutes since, with that telephone down the hall. And I was supposed to tell her like 5 minutes before, so. I'm a forgetful person, sorry. So yes, as much as I'd like to continue staring into those eyes of yours, we need to go now."

"Can't you call her now?"

"She's just going to think it's forced."  
\---

Mila Babicheva peeked around the corner. A black-haired man appeared to have a gun pressed firm against Viktor's back as they headed towards one of East Berlin's many Trabants.

If this man were to have Viktor at gunpoint however, the Trabant was sure to be greatly modified.

Still, a certain instinct clawed at her, suspicion gnawing at her bones.

She watched as the car rumbled off, then she disappeared into the shadows.

\---

Knowing how to get to the Wall and then over it, was not the problem. Yuuri had it all planned out, with various routes, memorising them all like the back of his hand.

The problem was getting there alive.

"Could you pass me the brown paper bag in my case, Yuurya?"

He wasn't even going to ask what the strange Russian butchering of his name was supposed to mean. He passed the bag.

He also kept a straight face. Now of all times was a good time to keep a straight, stoic face.

The great irony lay in the fact that he usually acted more nervous than he really was (although not entirely- they say the best lies are half-truths). But now here he was, covering up anxiety.

Not because of the danger and possible mortality of the current situation- that was just any other day. But because he currently had the most dangerous spy in the world in the backseat of his car, when that was most certainly the exact opposite of any of his plans, and everything was moving quite quickly. Plus, as much as he had no qualms about taking down Viktor, there was still a certain respect any spy would feel for a person of his skill and caliber. Yes.

"Are- they- still- following us?" asked Viktor, each word enunciated slowly as he was distracted by the assembling of a handgun from the brown paper bag.

"Yes sir."

"Please call me Vic."

"Although you insisted, V-Viktor, don't you think it looks quite unforced for you to be in the backseat, untied, no gun to your head?"

"Mila is no idiot. She would have figured I am complicit in some way by now," Viktor said as he screwed on the barrel, completing the gun, while creakily winding down the window with a single wingtipped foot.

Yuuri stopped at a red light.

Viktor suddenly leaned out the window, turned towards the back, and took two shots throught the front window of Mila's car.

Yuuri floored it. They both knew better than to think she was down, even the man who had come to know her only a few minutes ago.

"I sure hope she doesn't drive as quickly as she used to," Viktor quipped.

Mila got up from where she had ducked into her seat, stretching her arms while casting a vague smile. Then she gave chase.

Yuuri took a look into his rear view mirror.

"I have bad news for you, I think she does."

They sped down the streets, their bodies pressed into their seats, as the rows and rows of ugly cobblestone, all one and the same, turned into a blur.

Mila started to close the gap, almost reaching the side of Yuuri's car, when he swerved suddenly to take a right. Viktor made a hum of approval.

Then he took an immediate left. This time, Mila couldn't keep up, she turned as well, but too late, forcing her car to press against the side of the other vehicle. Yuuri swiftly braked and spun his wheels. Mila, who was still going too fast, was thrown into a wilder spin, her car shooting off to the side, as her targets sped down their planned route.

"Nicely done."

Mila recovered, reversing and giving chase once again. But Yuuri had put a considerable distance between them. He swerved to park in a row of the other, identical Trabants, as Mila sped past, none the wiser.

He showed Viktor a crumpled up map with markings, pointing to a mark made near the Wall. "We have to get to this building. Reaching the roof is our main objective."

He then casually got out of the car and opened the passenger door.

"Take the wheel. Reverse down the sidewalk, and drive around the block."

"What?"

"Then meet me back here."

Viktor's eyes widened momentarily, then he grinned. "Stay safe."

Yuuri almost chuckled- but then swallowed it and tried his best to turn it into a snort.

Mila drove back to find the duo, but by then, she had narrowly missed the car. She spotted a shadow by a corner, but brushed it off and continued driving.

That shadow, Yuuri Katsuki, took cover, peeked out and shot the back tire of Mila's car.

She loudly crashed into a nearby building, wrecking her vehicle.

She laid in thought, unscathed, within the wreckage.

She remembered that it had just been a short while ago, just tonight, when she had bumped into Viktor into the stairs of their apartment building. He had chuckled "I think I have a bit of a situation back home, a curious visitor."

"Should I go up with you?"

"No offense, Mila, but that often makes things less fun. I'll let you in 15 if I'm fine, telephone and all."

"I'll hold you to that."

None of it seemed to make much sense. A defection was always planned ahead, to be executed with perfection. Why the unwarranted comment? What- he wanted Mila to know? Give chase? Why? Or had he somehow- entered this apartment and been convinced in that time to defect? What did the "curious visitor" possess? Blackmail?

She shook her head almost involuntarily. She had so many more questions than answers. Then again, Viktor had always been a mystery.

She couldn't contemplate, couldn't face it herself, that maybe Viktor had been thinking of escape all along, and that his "curious visitor" was a simple last spark, a catalyst to set off dominos already in place.

She could almost hear Yakov's voice in her head, its every inflection, even without him giving the instructions, she knew what they were, "Capture them if you can, kill them if necessary, but one thing is most important- Viktor must not escape."

As Viktor completed his drive around the block, Yuuri got into the passenger seat, none the wiser to Mila's survival.

Let's see you have a taste of your medicine, she thought.

As the duo drove off, she shot their back tire. Certainly a good way to spend her last bullet.

But his tires were reinforced better than hers. The car started to screech, and slow considerably, but could continue to move.

Undeterred, Mila gave chase. On foot.

"I think you should look out the back window!" Viktor laughed.

"You can't be serious." The younger agent looked legitimately shocked. Despite the current situation, Viktor could appreciate the authenticity.

Mila caught up, actually caught up, and grabbed onto the boot of the car, her shoes skidding across the asphalt as the car slowed further.

"She's. Trying. To Stop. The Car."

Viktor smiled and gave a "typical Mila" head shake. "Why don't you take a shot?"

The Japanese spy paused.

"Somehow...that just doesn't feel like the right thing to do."

In her efforts, Mila tore the cover off the boot. The car drove off. She looked down at the piece of metal in her hands disbelievingly, and then threw it to a side. In the distance, the sirens of police cars rang out. Turns out loud car chases and gunshots, no matter how "silenced" the latter was, didn't really make for stealth.

"Fuck. Ok Route 1 is a goner. Turn left, then an immediate right," Yuuri dictated to Viktor.

They headed towards the more-inconvenient Route 2, which was risker too- it went through a particularly rough neighbourhood, and it was soon evident that a part of a crumbling building had collapsed and blocked an already narrow road. They backtracked. Time was running out.

"There's a Route 3 but considering how shoddy Route 2 was, you should know this can't be any better. And I'm not sure if this car in a state to make it there."

"Hand me the map."

Viktor took one look. "I have an idea."

Yuuri struggled to keep the puzzlement off his face because he swore, there was no other way to the building, but still- this was Viktor Nikiforov, after all.

Who was now on his side. Probably. Maybe.

He still couldn't quite process that.

"You do know that I have no control over what CIA actually does with you right?" He supposed though, that was a bit pointless to mention that this far into their endeavour. 

"No need to worry. I can take care of myself. Maybe fake my death, if it comes to that," Viktor dismissed cheerfully.

"That's nice," the younger man replied, warily watching as Viktor drove down strange roads. The Russian appeared to be going down an alleyway between two buildings. "But you see, this road doesn't seem to be going anywhere. In fact it seems to be getting narrower."

"Have confidence in me."

The road did get narrower, and the car found itself half-plunged down a flight of stairs between the two buildings, damaged and stuck in place.

"So. Was this a mistake or."

"Now," Viktor said, winding down the driver's seat window, "Take a right, into the window of that building. I believe it is the one you marked out, yes? I'll go first."

Yuuri paused and blinked. Then he snapped shut his slightly gaping mouth. 

They raced through a series of apartments and up winding stairs, to the roof of the building, as Mila argued nearby in a mix of rapid fire German and Russian, with the police. Then she was hot on the escapees' heels, newly equipped with a firearm from the police.

They made it to the top, closing off the roof access with a metal bar.

"So what now, Agent Katsuki?"

"Get more men to the Wall! Now!" Mila shouted into her walkie-talkie. She shot at the covered roof access, but only managed to distort the metal cover.

"Now, Yuuri replied, using his flashlight to send Morse code to a truck on the other side of the Wall, "we look for Agent Leo."

Meanwhile, Mila has spotted another way to the roof.

Leo received the Morse code and opened the back of the truck. A zipline shot out, the hook catching onto the chimney of the builing.

Mila got up to the top of a nearby building and made it over onto the same roof that her targets were standing on.

"Hop on," Yuuri nodded to Viktor.

But Mila was just a few steps behind. She used a handkerchief as an impromptu hold-on for utilising the zipline as well.

The duo made it into the truck. Then Leo impromptly reversed the truck, causing the zipline to sag. Mila hung at the halfway point on the line, no longer able to make it across.

Leo unhooked the zipline from the truck's side and they escaped.

\---


	6. Cultured people think about breaking into furniture stores after midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh sorry to everyone expecting lots of wackiness/crackiness/JFK America in this chapter. They're in West Berlin waiting to be debriefed by Celestino. That encounter, plus a few more matters to sort out, will take another chapter.
> 
> "So what is this chapter about?" you may ask. 
> 
> Why this is the chapter in which our dear sons are awfully disobedient. Not that there's any surprise to be had there. 
> 
> Also- you know that thing books do, where they kinda hit "Transition Plateauing Hell" between two big events? Which is kinda how the second book in a trilogy can be the worst? This is that hell for now. I hope it isn't too bad.
> 
> And yes, if you crave leoji and/or are wonder what's up with leo's "errands" this chapter, here's some shameless self-promotion for "Bonds and Violence", a fic sort-of set in the same universe.

West Berlin

1963

Yuuri would have been perfectly ok with staying in the back of the truck, but Viktor had cajoled Leo into letting them into the driver's compartment, with Yuuri riding shotgun and Viktor squished up behind him, standing. 

"Oh, oh, we're stopping there right?"

Viktor pointed to the glitzy hotel on the horizon. Though it was well into the night, the lights of the city illuminated its exterior, which displayed large ads for Mercendes Benz and KLM, and was done up in pale russet, with white and gold trimmings. 

"...no? Ok, I know a lot of other nice hotels here too."

Leo did not reply and Yuuri seemed uncomfortable, so Viktor just sunk a bit into his non-existent seat. Oh well. They drove past the streets festooned with flower patches, past the red-and-white awnings of bustling diners, the colors giving away gradually to emptier streets, whereupon sat buildings of yellowed, crumbling stone. 

\---

"You know, I didn't really expect this- all this," said Viktor, gesturing helplessly to the general run-down state of their apartment/hiding-space. The walls were covered in tiles painted a rather ghastly mustard, grout choking the gaps. Viktor was afraid of even touching it. The pale blue wainscoating achieved nothing but to rob the room of any little taste it had accidentally procured. The blackened, rusted state of the kitchen looked like what people woke up to, in those "What To Do If There's Been A Nuclear Strike?" pamphlets. 

They were supposed to meet a man named Celestino, but he was called away urgently on another task, right before his ride from Italy to Berlin. He would be meeting them tomorrow, or so the telephone call went.

"Sorry if you expected a hotel, but we really can't draw attention to ourselves right now," Yuuri replied.

Their rescuer/driver was leaning into the corner of the room and picking at his fingers. He was apparently named Leo, and he seemed to be rather anxious, Viktor thought. He supposed that such behaviour could be attributed to his presence, but Yuuri had also informed him that the American was supposed to be undercover all the way in Mongolia, so he was currently fretting about his cover and his informant-friend. Finally, Leo spoke up.

"So, Yuuri, I have- errands to run, look after Viktor, will you?"

"Sure," Yuuri replied. He could sound casual. His friend Phichit, on the other hand, would've bursted out laughing by now.

What errands, Viktor thought. He gave the Japanese agent a questioning look. 

"Sweets," Yuuri explained. A slight smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He couldn't help it. God, the "shipping" tendencies of Phichit was really rubbing off on him. So much for month-long missions in Thailand. 

Leo just shot him a look of shock and betrayal. 

"Hey, I get it. Classified, I know. All I said was 'sweets'," he defended. 

"Well- ok. Just make sure the Russian doesn't go anywhere."

Viktor understood that he was a man of perfection and beauty to be protected and watched over at all cost, but now he was just feeling like a child. 

 _It's not I really have to look over him_ , Yuuri thought, _we all know you've got this place bugged to the ceilings._

\---

"Yuuri, let's go out."

"No."

Viktor pouted. "It's just a short walk in your territory, after all. Are you saying you can't handle me?"

"Yes."

Viktor smiled, "I don't think the people listening in, would like to hear that. Have more confidence in yourself."

Yuuri knew exactly what Viktor was trying to do. The man had to try harder.

He sat himself down firmly onto a stool opposite Viktor and starting cleaning under his nails with a dagger, while silently wondering if any of the agents, CIA or KGB, ever actually had a proper sleep schedule any day in their lives. He didn't. Yeah they probably all didn't. 

Viktor seemed to change strategy. He walked over, and whispered into Yuuri's ear, "don't you want to know why I defected?"

Appealing to curiosity now, then. 

He continued cleaning under his nails. 

Five minutes later, he left a note for Leo on the table and they went out. 

\---

Yuuri was not going to be satisfied with his answers. 

"There's still going to be people watching and following us," the Japanese agent said. Not with resentment, or even annoyance. It was just a plain statement of fact, something an agent would naturally accept in their situation. 

It's different, Viktor thought, it's different. It's going to be a smattering of some hired people, conscious of working for the agency, for money or out of patriotism. 

It's different, because where Viktor came from, it was everyone's eyes on you, all the time. Everyone had to keep each other in line. Nobody "worked" for the agency, because everyone did, and did it around the clock. 

He turned to smile at Yuuri, "Let's go for some currywurst, I know where the good ones are. It should be near where I want to be, anyway."

"Those are not going to be open. And where do you want to go?"

"I never got to check out the furniture in West Berlin."

"What?"

"First lesson. A good mark of a civilised and cultured country, Yuurya, is that it sells coat hanger stands attached to chairs. It is a novel yet convenient idea which does not strike many people."

 _Those are not going to be open either_ , Yuuri thought. He felt helpless.

\---

Yuuri found himself at least slightly surprised by the presence of a small currywurst kiosk still plodding on in the wee hours of the morning. He inched cautiously towards its flickering lights. 

They were served by an ancient man who looked like he slept just as regularly as the agents. Yuuri poked warily at the sausages drowned in curry sauce.

Meanwhile, Viktor looked absolutely delighted. He devoured two servings of the stuff, curry hotdogs and fries and well, before turning his attention to the adjacent street of furniture stores. 

It turns out that Russian agent really wasn't kidding. They walked down the series of darkened stores, with Viktor looking increasingly, worryingly interested in breaking-in. That is, until he finally spotted one of those bizarre hanger-chair things displayed at the front window, and so proudly at that. He seemed merely delighted by its presence, and did not mention purchasing it in any way. 

As they made their way back to the hotel, Yuuri decided it was as good a time as any. 

"So why did you...choose going over the Wall?"

"Hmm? I would like to think I have some pretty good reasons," smiled Viktor. 

_I'm not entirely sure. I just knew things were falling apart there, and that nothing I was doing for the KGB was fixing it, maybe even making it all worse. I was killing too many innocent people and spending more time tending to the power trips and personal drama of superiors than anything else. But I'm running away, not towards anywhere, not any destination, but away from somewhere. And that's fucking stupid, I know._

"Little good I was doing there as an agent. I know that as agents, we often have to do what may be brutal, and we have it to do it quickly. And occasionally it turns out to be the wrong thing to do, in hindsight. But this was worse than all that," Viktor explained, his shoulders easing a tad. 

"But I had to come here, because I knew this place is going to be better," he continued. His grin had returned, and tightened. 

_Actually I have no idea. It's just that, I was always a "but what if we could do this instead?" sort of teen, and I felt like I lost that spark to do mad, ill-advised things. Because for the past five years, I kept telling myself "everywhere is as bad as the motherland is, that's just the world, you've had the priviledge of seeing most of it." But now "what if? what if it's not?" claws too hard at me._

"This place is no utopia either, and I can't say the CIA will spoil you and make you rich," Yuuri replied. He was looking away. 

"No, but everything is relative. My conscience is clearer here."

_It better be, because Heaven help me, I want what's left of my faith in mankind to remain. Would it have been better for my happiness, to stay where I was, and live in the insistence that somewhere in the world, there are rulers capable of being better? Then I could still have my little bit of faith? Or to come here and have those thoughts shattered as mere illusions? It's too late to consider that now._

Yuuri suddenly stopped walking. Viktor stumbled as he braked in response. 

The younger man turned to look at him, "I don't like being lied to. I don't like being underestimated by the people who want to guide me. Now tell me again, why you came here."

Viktor saw the same guardedness and strength in Yuuri's eyes, but now he heard the mild quiver in the man's voice, the small sparks of anger in the man's gaze, sparks of hurt. 

Yuuri, secret agent that he was, had actually expected a whole truth. 

"Yuuri, I may not have been entirely truthful, but I do mean it when I say I want to do good in this world. Besides, I am here now. No matter how things turn out here, I will make the most of my time. The best news is that you are here. Because-"

Viktor let out a sharp, bitter laugh. He tried to keep his composure, but it was difficult. His lips trembled. _Because I'm fading away, Yuuri. I'm getting old. Spies wash out quick, it's just a standard thing. But you're the new generation, the new hope, it all falls to you, even if I guide you._

"I need time off too, Yuuri. A man has to retire, have a bit more fun in life. It's your turn now. Any good to be done, it's now up to you and your friends. So I will help, I'd be glad to."

A slight stretch of silence passed. 

 _He wants so much of me_ , Yuuri thought, _he thinks so highly of me. That he can pass the torch._

Yuuri was actually happy. Viktor didn't try to coddle him, didn't underestimate him. If nothing, Viktor was _over_ estimating Yuuri. 

He could get used to that. 

\---

It was only a matter of time, after all, before Yuuri dropped the bomb. So now was as good a time as any.

"Have you ever thought of what happens to your family after the stunt we pulled?"

Viktor just shrugged that off. 

"I used to, let's say, investigate MI6. They have a popular adage, 'Orphans make the best spies'. You heard of it?"

"Yes," Yuuri replied.  _No, of course I didn't. Those blasted Brits never do tell us anything._

"Well I disagree with them. All it does is make sure that the state has less...collateral on its spies. I don't think the state should consider that a good thing."

\---

The shopping district faded behind them, its plasticky store fronts giving way to a town square. The collective, numbing gaze of their decrepit apartment cluster hung on the horizon. 

On a park bench close to them, sat an old man with a newspaper. 

At 2 in the morning. With no one else around. 

 _This is not what it looks like_ , Yuuri felt like screaming to Viktor, _most of us are more competent than this!_ Now was a great time for them to invent and deploy a ground-based device that could suck him in whole.

Actual Viktor seemed greatly amused, "Wait here".

Yuuri occupied himself with a nearby art gallery, the tips of his ears still burning. 

Behind the glass of the gallery, was a entire row of life-sized paintings. Most had firmly hopped onto the bandwagon of abstract and modern art, its confounding, deconstructive aesthetics a rebellion against the realism of the past and more importantly, of the socialists. But now, Yuuri found himself staring at an odd, ancient piece- a depiction of idyllic pasture scenery. A wood nymph, clad in white, with a garland of flowers encircling her head, stood tall and proud, her long locks bathing in the sunlight. 

The reflection of Viktor, was cast onto the painting, next to the nymph. He was conversing with the man on the bench, the latter of which appeared to be getting more and more angered. Viktor simply returned, on occasion, a blank expression, before returning to his sweet smile. He stood with a most confident posture, at his towering height, yet with elegance and ease. He stood not so far from the man as to indicate fear or nerves, but not so close that it exuded emotion. 

The pale moonlight cast a glowing almost-halo onto Viktor's silvery white locks. The old man gave in, the ruse was up, he simply got up and left. 

And Viktor. Viktor, or rather his reflection, looked right at home on the painting. Great, graceful, far. 

 _He may never fill the shoes of the Great Viktor Nikiforov, even if that was the man so wished,_ Yuuri thought. 

But bugger off with anyone who thought he wasn't going to at least try. 

 


End file.
